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#just tried to drink some knock of liquid iv or whatever that shit is called
alphacrone · 1 year
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realizing that while i may not be a picky eater, i am absolutely a picky drinker.
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clatterbane · 1 year
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It's time for another gastroscopy treatment in the morning, which I'm not exactly looking forward to.
But, I had to think again that this is a decent illustration of an actual phobic reaction, compared to...Not That.
Yeah, I do not particularly want to get up without drinking anything, and head out for another trip to get knocked out with IV migraine potion for an invasive procedure scheduled at 9 a.m. I am not looking forward to the drug hangover and sore throat for at least 2-3 days afterward.
But, it is indeed more of a "not this shit again!" exasperated reaction by now. With some frustration at the state of reality in general, that this is still necessary every few weeks for if I want to continue being able to eat. Which I really, really do.
I am NOT panicking and falling into disturbing suicidal escape thought loops every time I consider the prospect. Anymore.
This endoscopy team has consistently treated me like I'm an actual person, and tried to keep the experience as comfortable and non-traumatizing as possible. The goal does seem to be keeping me able to eat as "normally" as possible, and the treatment schedule is being adjusted accordingly as we go.
The doctors are not avoiding speaking to me directly, and nobody has tried to shut me down when I tried to ask totally reasonable questions--or brought up concerns like "I am not even consistently able to swallow liquids". (Not that things have been allowed to get to that point again. 😒) They keep asking how I've been eating. We can actually get directly in touch with the reception and staff there if necessary for whatever reason.
I am also going in now with a reasonable expectation that they will do their best to make sure that I am properly anesthetized before starting a painful procedure. If I were with it enough to try to, say, raise a hand to call a time out--or "just" started thrashing around in distress? I have actually been shown reason to think that they would freaking stop and give me more meds, rather than bark and have some nurses restrain me to keep going as they were.
They have already adjusted the anesthesia for the next time, when I mentioned that I did start coming back to awareness and registering pain toward the end. And also trying to reduce the hangover. (If with less success. But, they acted like that mattered too.)
All of this gives me one hell of a lot more confidence that the actual procedure will not be nearly as miserable and traumatic as it has been made in the past.
I may need to remind myself of this fact sometimes, once Trauma Brain tries to kick in. But, it does make quite a difference, knowing that I really can reasonably expect the situation to be better moving forward.
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xteenwolfwritingsx · 4 years
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You Know Better - Part 36 - Recover
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-gif source unkown-
Story Description: Peter and the reader develop a slow relationship.
Part Description: You wake up in the hospital.
Warnings/Labels: Medical mumbo jumbo. Tooth-decaying sweetness.  
Approx. Word Count:  
A/N: Final part before the epilogue (which I plan to have out this month!!) Again, not a medical professional. I know nothing of medical mumbo-jumbo and the only “research” I’ve done is watch House and Grey’s Anatomy. So bear with me.
Story Masterpost
Everything is hazy and bright when your eyes blink open. You’re staring at very bright, white lights covering an entire ceiling and laying on a firm, unforgiving mattress. The sheets are scratchy. Your throat is dry and there’s something shoved inside of it. You cough, trying to get it out, but it doesn’t work.
You start to panic, unable to breathe with this thing blocking your airway. You keep trying to cough, to breathe, as machines start beeping around you. You lift your hands to pull at whatever is in your mouth, but you find your wrists encased in restraints, only able to lift them a few inches. Tears fill your eyes at the fear and the sensation of having something scratching inside of your throat.
“She’s awake!” a man yells. “Someone get Melissa!” There’s a hand on your arm and your vision clears enough to see Derek leaning over you. “It’s okay. Calm down,” he tries to soothe. There’s a worry in his eyes that he tries to hide that only makes you panic even more in your haze.  
You ball your hands into fists and pull at your restraints as hard as your weakened body allows. They don’t budge though and every sound you attempt to make; words, screams, anything, is blocked by the tube in your mouth. Derek’s hand wraps around yours and squeezes.
Melissa runs in, hands immediately coming to your mouth. She unclips the device and starts to pull. The tube down your throat comes out too slowly for your liking and you cough violently, trying to simultaneously expel it and ease the scratchiness it leaves behind.
You’re still coughing, trying to catch your breath when Peter runs into the room, clear panic across his face. Derek releases your hand reluctantly and steps back, allowing Peter to sweep in, taking his place. His hands instantly go to work on the restraint around one of your wrists.
“Peter,” Melissa warns, pausing her motions of adjusting the machines next to your bed to make the frantic beeping stop. He gives her a short glare.
“She’s coherent this time,” he scolds, continuing to release the straps. Once finished, he takes hold of your hand in both of his and you find yourself clinging to him. “And I’ve got her.” His words are as firm as his grip and you finally start to feel yourself relax, let your heartrate come down. His eyes meet yours and they soften. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, warming the cold skin. “I’ve got her,” he repeats quietly, the words meant for you this time.  
“What,” you try to speak, but your voice croaks and your throat burns in pain. Derek’s already handing Peter a cup of water with a straw for you to drink from. Melissa presses a button on the bed and the head of it starts to rise, slowly sitting you up. When you’re at a fairly upright angle, Peter holds the cup in front of you.
The water tastes good, but feels both soothing and painful as you swallow it. It’s very clearly the first liquid you’ve had in days. Which means you’ve been knocked out for at least that long. As you drink, you look closely at everyone. Derek’s stubble has grown out a little. There’s three long, faded scratches along Melissa’s right cheek. Peter looks tired and his clothes look crumpled, worn. You rub your legs together and judging by their scratchiness, it’s been at least a week since you shaved last.
“You’re going to be a little weak,” Melissa tells you gently as she works on the restraints on your other wrist. “Just go slow.” You clear your throat just to test your voice and it still hurts, but not enough to stop you.
“What happened?” It’s hoarse and low, but understandable.
“You’ve been out for almost twelve days,” Melissa says. “The poison really did a number on you. You’ve been on a ventilator for a couple of days now.”
“You woke up last week,” Derek tells you, coming to stand at the foot of the bed so that he can see you clearly. “But you weren’t exactly…” he pauses and his eyes involuntarily dart to Melissa’s face. She looks down, allowing her hair to curtain over her cheek and the scratches.
“Did I do that?” Guilt floods you, but she smiles gently and gives your hand a friendly squeeze.
“It’s okay. You weren’t lucid.” Her voice is kind and honest, holds no trace of blame. The woman was too damn nice. You squeeze her hand back and are about to apologize anyways when Peter speaks.
“You’ve got one hell of a right hook too.” His voice is more jovial, even if it is a little forced. “Wonder who taught you that.” You never thought in a hundred years that his condescending smirk would bring you such comfort, but by god it does. He rubs his jaw in mock pain and throws you a subtle wink. “Think I can still feel the bruise.” You let go of him and smack the back of your hand against his stomach. The motion takes more energy than you expected, but everyone gives a little smile.
“You probably deserved it,” you tease, hating how scratchy your voice sounds. You clear your throat and readjust yourself on the bed, incidentally tugging at your IV and various life-monitoring devices that make you look like a puppet with all their wires. You give up with a sigh and contend to being uncomfortable.  
“We can go over all the details later, but you’re going to be okay.” Melissa moves some of wires for you and lifts your bed up a little more.  
“Everyone else?” Anyone not in this room could be dead, after all.  
“Everyone is okay.” Derek calms your fears quickly, easily seeing the worry rise up in your face. “Kayla is dead and we got the Cerberus back where it belongs.”  
“And how exactly would you know if everyone’s alright?” Melissa quips, a smile on her face. She turns her eyes to you. “Neither of them have left this hospital since they brought you in here. The entire world could be devolved into chaos and they wouldn’t have a clue.” Both Hales shoot her half-hearted glares.
“Someone would have called,” Peter joke dryly. You bite back a smile of your own and reach for his hand again, redirecting his attention to you. It felt good to touch him.
“Well why don’t you go find out?” She puts her hands on the bed railing and straightens out, shifting strictly into Mom/Nurse-Taking-No-Shit mode. “She needs her rest and we’re going to need to run some tests just to be safe. So out you go.” She nods towards the door, but as expected, neither of them move without looking to you first.
“It’s okay,” you assure them, shooing them with one of your hands. “Go take showers. You both stink,” you tease. You can tell they’re still reluctant, but Derek nods his head and files out first. Peter pauses, reaching out to gently stroke his hand along your jaw before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promises.  
After Peter leaves, Melissa turns to you, having previously turned away to give you some semblance of privacy. She smiles sweetly, but there’s a teasing glint in her eye. You raise your eyebrows at her, silently asking what it was.
“You know,” she starts slowly, jotting down some notes on your chart. “I went on a date with him once. Sort of.” Suddenly you feel a little embarrassed.
“I…forgot about that,” you admit. She laughs a little bit.
“Most people do. Even I forget sometimes.” Grabbing a blood pressure cuff off the wall, she motions for your arm. “He had this gentleman air around him. Like he was the type of guy to always get the door for you and ask permission before he kisses you.” You scoff a little and she gives you a knowing look. “That was all a façade obviously. He’s not that kind of guy at all.” The inherently negativity of the statement brings the instinct to defend his character onto the tip on your tongue, but she continues without giving you the chance. “He is, however, the kind of guy to carry a bloody, barely breathing woman into the hospital and sit in the waiting room, also bloody, for 32 hours before he can see her again. He’s the kind of guy to stay with said women at all hours of the day and hold her hand and talk to her, plead with her to be okay because he needs her, when he thinks no one can hear.” Her eyes are trained on the blood pressure gauge as the cuff squeezes your arm uncomfortably, but you’re sure she can still notice the blush that comes to your pale face. “May not be the chivalrous gentleman he pretended to be, but it’s pretty clear that man would do anything for someone he loves.” You’re very grateful it’s just your blood pressure she’s checking and not your pulse because the way your heart just skipped around in your chest would certainly raise some red medical flags.
“Oh I don’t think… I mean he’s just being…” you fumble for words, but nothing sounds right. The smile she gives you is endearing and she gives you a small wink as she un-velcros the cuff.
“It must be a Hale thing,” she teases. “Derek also happened to be staining a chair with blood in our waiting room for quite a while.”  
“They better pay for those chairs,” you tell her, causing her to laugh.
“Don’t worry about it.” She closes up your chart and gives your hand a pat. “I’ll have someone in to draw some blood in a minute, but after that, you should get some rest.” You had to admit, your body feels weak and your eyes want to do nothing more than close for a while.
“Thank you,” you tell her just before she leaves the room.
---
When your eyes blink open, you can tell it’s nighttime. All the lights are dimmed down in your room. The blinds over the windows you hadn’t noticed before are drawn, but it’s obvious there’s no sunlight trying to filter in behind them. Your bed is slightly reclined back, but all it takes is a lift of your head to see Peter sitting in a chair across the room, an open book in his hands. He’s got new clothes on, much less rumbled than before.
“Reading in the dark is bad for your eyes,” you manage to croak out. He looks up swiftly and smiles at you.
“So I’ve been told.” He snaps the book closed and leaves it on the chair behind him when he gets up, coming to stand next to you. He grabs the water off the table besides you and once again, holds it up for you to drink from the straw resting on the lip. “How are you feeling?” he asks gently after you manage to contain a sputter of a cough.  
“Sore. Groggy. Weak. But better than when I first woke up.” An honest answer. Lying wouldn’t do you any good with him.  
“You had us worried for a while there.” His hand comes to the top of your head, thumb stroking gently along your forehead. It’s comforting and almost makes you want to go back to sleep.
“You should have told me about the poison.” You can’t resist the urge to scold him lightly. “Locking me up with Argent of all people?” A look of regret briefly breaks through his features.
“I know.” The words surprise you. You hadn’t expected him to actually agree with you. “I didn’t have a better plan though and I just…” He sighs heavily, eyes looking away from you. “I was afraid,” he admits slowly. He doesn’t like saying it, even rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to… I couldn’t…”
“Come here,” you whisper, cutting him off and drawing his eyes back to you. You reach your hand out towards him and he only hesitates for a moment before leaning down close to you. You bring your hand to his cheek, his jawline prickling the bottom of your palm with too-long stubble. Your hold on his face is gentle and timid, but he leans into it, almost like he craved your touch. You brush your thumb over his cheekbone and he closes his eyes. “I can’t lose you either.”  
He doesn’t need to say it. You don’t expect him to. Words are an unneeded obligation after everything that’s happened. Romance. Connection. Love. People will call it, label it, whatever they see fit, but you don’t need to. In this moment, it’s clear you and Peter both know you’re on the same page, whatever that might be. That’s all that matters.
He leans down enough to press his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s not out of passion or lust, but of a need to be touching you, to be intimate on a deeper level and to feel you solidly, real and alive. You cling to him, one hand on his cheek and the other fisting the torso of his shirt. It lasts longer than it probably should and when he finally pulls away, you’re blinking away tears.  
Everything is okay.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming back for me.”  
“I’ll always come back for you,” he says softly, pulling away a little further. You wonder briefly, if the heart skipping thing will ever stop around him. His eyes brighten a little and his face lightens. “Don’t want to waste a good student.” You bite your lip to hold back a soft laugh while letting your hands come down from him, allowing him to straighten back up with a grin. “You should get your rest,” he tells you, offering you the water once more. “I’ll be here if you need me.”  
He gives your hand a squeeze before returning to his chair and opening up his book. You watch him for just a few moments, admiring everything about him and being simply amazed at how things have turned out. Your eyes drift shut and you slip into sleep with the lightest smile on your face.  
Everything is perfect.
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ashenious · 5 years
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Some Grand Affairs Amongst the Normality - Chapter 3 of ??? (Dante/Reader)
Overall Story Rating: Mature Overall Story Tags: Alcohol, Big Snake, (Like literally a big snake), Blood, Body Horror, Dead Body Mention, Fluff, Gore Mention, Depressive Thoughts, Drugging, IV Mention, Nausea, Nightmares, Reader is regular boring Human, Reader likes to clean, Reader is also a troublemaker, Slow Burn, Suicide Mention, There was only one bed,
For This Chapter: Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Depressive Thoughts, Suicide Mention Additional: Blood and body mention Word Count: 4653
Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/ Part 10/Part 11/Part 12
AO3 Link: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/Part 11/Part 12
           “Hey!” Hearing the sudden voice, you jumped a bit, stopping yourself in place as you reached for the nearby towel. The door creaked open a bit just before you heard the voice continue. “I’ve got some spare clothes here, hopefully they fit?” As Dante finished speaking, you heard a bit of shuffling before the door was closed. You grabbed the towel, pulling it off its rod and began to dry off, happy that the snake gunk did come off easily; it just took a little bit of time to get all of it off completely, but you still worried you had some on you though, as you still felt kind of gross. 
           As you stepped out of the tub and caught sight of the pile of clothes on the sink’s counter, you heard some noises outside the door that sounded vaguely like ice hitting metal. Excitement filled you as the thought of what drink Dante was making came to mind.
          You dried yourself off, your head going through the few drinks you knew of as you did so. As you grabbed the pile of clothes, you tossed the used towel over the shower rod before beginning to pull on the new clothes.
           They were a little big, the shirt being very loose on your shoulders and the shorts hanging a bit, but as you tied the draw string on the shorts, they fit just fine. Looking down at the shirt, you recognized the pizza logo on it as the one from down the street.
           You turned your head toward your pile of dirty clothes, wondering what to do with them as they just lay in a pile of snake blood. Sighing, you slowly picked them up into one hand, using your other hand to turn on the bathroom fan and then opening door.
          As you stepped out of the humid room, your eyes caught sight of Dante behind the bar who was mixing up some sort of drink. Watching as he smiled at you as he poured a few shots, you felt your lip twitch a bit just before you looked for a trash can nearby. Spotting a few of them around the room, you walked over to the one that was the least full, or rather, the only one that wasn’t overflowing with garbage, tipping off the lid of it with your foot before slamming your dirty clothes into the bin. Replacing the lid on top, you heard a chuckle behind you.
           “Not even going to try to get that blood out?” Dante said as he leaned himself on the bar.
          “Nope!” You said as you walked over the bar and sat down on one of the stools. “It would be way too much work to try to get all that out, I’ll just grab a new work vest from work. Not��sure how I’ll explain what happened to it to my boss.”
           “Just say there was a hunting accident, or something.” Dante suggested as he slid a shot glass toward you, one that was a pleasant light lime colour.
          “Do I look like the kind of person who goes hunting?” You replied, voice flat as you spoke. Picking up the shot glass, you lifted it a bit and tried to catch a waft of the smell to guess what was in it. Having never smelt something like it before, you felt a tinge of worry hit you. “What…in the world is this?”
           “A surprise!” Dante grinned as he held up his glass. Mirroring him and meeting his glass in the air for cheers, you both tapped down your glasses on the wooden bar before pulling them up to shoot them.
           It would only take this one mix drink for you to realize that Dante would be the worst bar mate on the entire planet.
           It took everything you had to not spit out the drink, as when you shot it, the small bit that landed on the back of your tongue made you throw yourself forward, free hand coming up to cover your mouth at the taste, and your hand holding the shot glass couldn’t help but knock over the glass as you slammed down on the table top a few times.
           Swallowing as fast as possible, you felt the burn all through the back of your throat, with the little bit of tongue that was unfortunate enough to get a taste feeling the burn too, and you felt the drink heat up your entire body as it made its way to your stomach, leaving a rather unpleasant after taste in its absence as well when the burn finally edged away. Feeling the heat settle deep in your stomach, you started counting in your head to distract you from the rolling your insides were doing.
           “What the actual fuck did you just give me?” you exclaimed when you finally felt like you were clear from expunging everything from the inside of your body. Tears sitting on the edges of your eyes, you looked up at Dante, who was leaning on the bar watching you, lips turned up in a cocky smile.
          “Oh, nothing that bad! You said you’d drink anything, so I made anything.” The man said as he stood up tall again. “Want another one?” Watching as he poured another 2 shots into 2 new glasses, you felt your stomach turn at the sight of the horrid liquid.
            Holding your hand up to him to indicate you’ll be passing on whatever monster creation he made, you watched as he preceded to shrug and down both shots, your eyes widening a little when he grabbed the second shot glass and shot it like the drink in it didn’t taste like how a dumpster smells.
           “Geez, you trying to forget something there?” you said as Dante set down the glass.
          “Nah, it just takes quite a bit more alcohol to hit me than most people.” He replied, hands slowly grabbing all the glasses and setting them within in each other in a neat stack by the wall.
          “Oh, is that cause you’re part demon?” you asked, slowly kicking your feet. Getting a nod and verbal confirmation from Dante who was making his way out from behind the bar, you smiled a bit. “So, there are downsides to being a demon too, huh? From all I’ve seen, it’s only been positives, like being super strong and that cool transformation thing you did earlier.” You said as Dante sat himself down on the couch near the bar, feet quickly coming up to rest on the table before one crossed over the other.
           “Cool transformation, huh?” He chuckled a bit, arms coming up to rest on the back of the sofa. “Yeah, there’s downsides too. Like I’ll have to drink three times as much liquor before I feel anything, or how I’m almost constantly hunted down for being the son of a pretty famous demon.”
           “Whoa, really?” As you hoped down from the bar stool, you looked around the room for a new seat, deciding upon Dante’s desk chair as a good seat. Grabbing it and spinning it around once, you slowly lifted it up, huffing as you did so, and carried it over the table where Dante had his feet. “So, are you famous then?”
           “You could say that?” Dante said, scratching under his jaw with one finger, one eyebrow up as he looked at you. “You ever hear the legend of Sparda?” Thinking for a second, you shock your head lightly.
           “It sounds familiar, but I don’t think so? Wasn’t that the name the fat demon called you that one time?” you asked, your body feeling warm slowly as you felt the edges of your head begin to be affected by the alcohol. “Shit, Dante, how strong was that drink you gave me?” Dante snickered as he ignored your second question.
           “Yeah, it did. But I’ll spare you the boring details, especially since there’s a lot of mystery around Sparda, but he was a pretty powerful demon back in the day. At some point he settled down, got hitched, had some kids, and then disappeared basically.” Watching Dante as he spoke, you found your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke, almost mesmerized by the story he was telling. Hearing a snapping sound suddenly, your attention was brought back to Dante’s eyes, quickly going between them and his hand that he was now snapping at you. “Earth to lightweight, you good?”
          “Oh! Yeah!” you replied, feeling your face turn red quickly at the situation. “Sorry, that drink hit me faster than I thought, kind of got lost for a second.” You admitted, tapping your fingers on your kneecaps as you spoke. Pulling your gaze down to your hands, you tapped for a few moments before looking back at Dante, catching his eyes on you and almost causing you to jump.
           “You still have questions to ask about demons?” he asked, his gaze focused on you as he spoke.
          “Oh, yes! I wrote them down too!” Jumping up from your spot, you ran into the bath and looked at your bag, still completely covered in snake blood. Peeling open the top and carefully fishing around inside for the paper, you grabbed it and shook it off as you pulled it out, thankful that it didn’t actually have any gunk on it. You closed your bag again, quickly rinsing the spots of snake blood off your hand before drying it and returning to the main room.
           “How many did you write down?” Dante asked, surprised to see the paper you held.
          “O-Only a few.” You lied as you sat down, shuffling a bit in your seat to get comfortable. “Okay, you ready?” you asked. Seeing Dante smile and nod, you started at the top and began with the first question you had come up with.
           With each question you asked, Dante made sure to answer each in detail, making sure to take his time in answering each one, even the ones you weren’t sure he would have a complete answer for.
           Every few questions, Dante would suggest doing another shot, or a half shot as the night went on and more and more drinks were consumed, promising each time that he wouldn’t make the same drink he made before.
           Keeping his promise, he gave you many different drinks, some of them being pretty decent and not making you want to fall over from the taste, but a few were pretty bad, causing your body to recoil a bit as you took them down. And each time you’d get a horrible one, Dante would offer you a club soda as a chaser, which helped tremendously with washing the taste and feeling down.
           Time went past you without you knowing, the drinks kept getting poured and you learned more than you expected to, your mind creating more questions the more Dante answered. With each drink you took, the harder you found it to focus on the words that Dante was saying as the night went on, you sometimes just focusing on him as a being.
           For most of evening you found yourself in the chair sat across from him, your feet often crossed under you or sitting on top of the table just before you. But at some point you found yourself sitting next to Dante, your body turned to face him as he spoke on, your legs crossed under you as you leaned back against the arm of the couch.
           Dante spent most of the night sitting in the same position, his arms thrown back over the top of the couch and his legs sitting on top of the coffee table in front of him, often one crossed over the other. As you watched his mouth move and words come from him, you tried your best to pay complete attention to what he was saying, finding it hard to do so with the effects of alcohol making your attention terrible and senses far more dull than you wanted them to be.
           You would often nod at him, trying your best to indicate that you were still in fact listening to him, unaware of what exactly he was saying sometimes. When he suggested to you that you stick to only half shots, you agreed on the terms that it was getting late, completely unaware than the man knew you were spacing out, your spaced out gaze being obvious to him when he would turn to speak to you.
           The number of questions you asked seemed innumerable, and you would sometimes pause to write down a new one the times you were able to keep your attention on his words. It had seemed like the horrible evening behind you was years away with how long it seemed like you and Dante talked, the questions you kept asking that kept him talking took the grasp of time you held and hid it from you, something you were grateful for.
           It was only when the sun began to peak through the window behind where Dante sat currently did you realize just how long you had been there, your head flying around to a nearby clock to see that 6 o’clock was right around the corner. Cursing loudly, you turned back to Dante.
           “Huh, morning already?” He said, yawning shortly after as he looked out the window behind him.
          “I guess I’m spending today sobering up.” You said, still feeling the fuzziness of alcohol affecting your senses. “Shit, but I’m supposed to work tonight! And I’m not anywhere near sober enough to go in!” Running your hands through your hair and resting your elbows on your knees, you felt your leg begin to bounce as anxiety hit you.
            “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll go and explain to them what happened to you.” Dante said, slowly raising to his feet and stretching his arms out above his head. Sitting up in your seat slowly, you looked up at the tall man, leg still bouncing as your hands remained out in front of you just hanging in the air. “You probably need to get some sleep anyway; you’ve had quite a few drinks.”
           You looked over to the pile of glasses on the bar, not having bothered to look over there since your first shot, and saw Dante was right; you had had more shots than you’ve ever had in one sitting before during the evening. It wasn’t surprising that you were still feeling drunk, but it was surprising you weren’t tired yet.
           “No, not yet. I’m not feeling tired yet anyway, and I should explain to my boss in person what’s going on.” You said, slowly standing up and also stretching, feeling your elbows pop as you did so. Shaking out your arms a little, you followed Dante, who surprisingly didn’t protest against you not wanting to sleep.
          “Where do you work again?” he asked as he held open the door for you. You stepped outside, telling him where you work and then rambling on about how long you had been working there before going on to tell him about all the people you worked with, the alcohol still in your system causing you to ramble on more than typical. Dante followed behind you, listening intently as you continued on with your spiel, giving occasional verbal input that he was still listening as you both walked on.
           Soon you finished talking about everyone at work, your body following the path to where you worked on instinct as you walked in silence and watched all the early morning people beginning their days. It was a sight you didn’t ever see, as you’d usually be asleep for a little bit longer before waking up to begin your own day.
          As you walked in silence, your mind began to replay all the questions and answers you had received during the evening before, slowly letting you go over each of them in order of asking them. One of them, the one you asked about demons living among the world, had given you the most surprising answer, as Dante had explained that demons could look like almost anything, even just a typical person.
           The answer had gotten you to think about everyone you interacted with every day, the people whom you met at work daily, co-workers you had known forever, even old friends of yours, and how literally anyone could be a demon and you’d have no idea of their existence until now.
          It was an eye opening surprise, but one you welcomed, as you had never been hurt or had any atypical trouble with anyone before, so if anyone you had met before was a demon, there was no reason to be upset about it because they had never caused harm to you, nor harm to anyone you knew.
          But there were sure to be demons that would hurt people, hell, you caught one in the act just last night, and it was surprisingly you had never heard about demons with all that was happening in the world right now. Maybe you just hadn’t been paying attention, or maybe it was those cases of completely unsolvable crimes you heard about, but it was almost shocking that knowledge of demons wasn’t more common.
          But there was no guarantee that it was demons who were causing crimes where a perpetrator couldn’t be found afterwards, it was just as likely that a human could’ve decided to hurt someone else for their own reason. There was no telling how many humans and demons were in the world, so there was no way to quantify how many of each were bad, so it may just come down the same number of humans and demons who were bad and decided they needed to harm others for some reason.
           Your eyes catching sight of the library just down the street, and you brought yourself out of your thoughts, pointing at the building to show Dante where you’re heading to. Grabbing the door and throwing it open a little too excitedly, you took large steps inside, making sure to put your foot down loudly to let whoever was inside know that someone was coming in, with you having a little too much fun stomping about like a toddler.
          “Good morning! We’re not op—” came a voice from the back, and as the voice got louder, you watched as your boss rounded the corner to the back, stopping when his eyes saw you. “Wait a second, what’s going on? Did you forget something here last night?” He asked, eyes a bit wide from confusion.
           “Morning boss!” you greeted optimistically. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s nothing bad, but something I needed to bring up sooner rather than later.”
          “Oh, what’s up? Does it have something to do with Dante here?” he asked, surprise hitting you as you turned around and saw Dante waving at your boss.
           “Hey, how’ve you been?” Dante said, small smile on his face.
          “Wait, you know each other then?” you asked, turning back around to face your boss. You walked up to the counter in the front, resting your hands on it as you leaned on the top of it. “That’ll make this way easier then!”
           “Oh yeah, we go way back.” Your boss said, walking up to the opposite side of the counter and leaning on the wall near it. “So, what’s happened?”
           “Well, you se—”
          “You know that fat snake fucker that’s been running around here recently?” Dante said, cutting you off. You turned your head to face him, confusion filling you at his honesty about the demon snake.
          “Yeah, the one that was running around claiming he was a god or something? You finally find him?” you heard your boss ask at Dante, your eyes turning back and forth between the two as they spoke.
          “Yep, that one. I did catch him, but there might have been a blood bath from it, which may have ruined someone’s evening.” Dante said, pointing at you behind his other hand. “And then lightweight and I spent most of the evening drinking, trying to forget that ugly ass face.”
          “Wait, are you drunk?” your boss asked at you. Flushing a bit, you nodded, really hoping you could have tried to walk away from here without him knowing how long you had been drinking for, hoping to play the whole situation off as a more light-hearted joke and mistake. Hearing a small laugh from him, you looked back at Dante, your lips pulled tight. “Well, that sounds like a horrible night!”
          “It was awful! That thing was so ugly, and persistent too, it was going to eat someone near my house and I just couldn’t let that happen!” You explained, turning back to your boss. “So, I’m not going to be sober enough for my shift tonight.” Feeling a hand come down lightly on your shoulder, you looked up at your boss, a smile on his face.
          “Don’t sweat it, this is a pretty special situation, so I’ll let it slide. Just don’t try to show up drunk, that’s all I ask.” He said, lifting his hand. “I’ll work the late shift tonight, it’ll be nice to see all the late night regulars again.”
           “I think I can do that.” You replied, grinning a little. Your grin died down a little not long after, a new thought coming to your head. “Wait… Boss, how do you know about demons?” Waiting for a reply, you saw your boss’s eyes look toward Dante for a moment, him mouthing something you weren’t able to understand just before he looked back toward you.
            “Well, uh… I’ll let you guess.” He said, face more serious than you had ever seen since you had known him. Staring at his face, you let your eyes wander over his features slowly, his sunken eyes that always made him look tired, his crooked nose that was covered in thick sun spots, and his cheeks that had only a few less sun spots than his nose.
          As the moments passed, you felt your attention shift to something within your chest, that small persisting feeling that you sometimes got when meeting new people. It was duller than normal, with alcohol still being in your system and although you had sobered up a bit from the walk here, it still lingered, dulling your senses about the world around you.
           It wasn’t a bad feeling, it was just a weight that sat near the center of your being, there wasn’t any heat or pain with it, just a density to it. You had always thought that it was because of anxiety, as meeting new people wasn’t something you really enjoyed, instead preferring to keep to yourself or going to work if you felt the need to socialize a bit, but sometimes the feeling persisted past the first meeting where it seemed to exist only when certain people were around.
           Maybe, thinking about all the people you had met in the past, it wasn’t anxiety, but something more innate to you, something that wouldn’t have ever made sense before because of your lack of knowledge.
           Wait one fucking second
          “Are you…a demon?” you finally asked, your voice coming out quieter than you meant it to. Seeing no change in your boss’s face, you knew the answer already, needing no confirmation from him. Pausing for a second, you felt your lip twitch a bit, a small chuckle leaving you. “And here I thought there wasn’t anything to you past finding new ways to get people to come visit the library.” Hearing a laugh from your boss, you smiled a cheeky grin.
           “Now, don’t get me wrong, I do live for spreading my love of reading, but of course that’s not all I have to me!” he said, a smile painting his face too.
            “Could’ve fooled me!” you said, pulling your hands off of the counter. “With how excited you always are for work, I would’ve put money on you having been born just to help people who stumble in here.” You paused for a second, thinking about some of your coworkers that gave you that dense feeling as well. “Does that mean that there are others who work here who’re demons too?”
           “Yes, there are, but it’s not my place to tell that, so I’ll let them do that.” Your boss said, him pulling himself off of the wall and turning to face Dante. “You may want to help this one get home, if you two were drinking all night, I have a feeling a wicked hangover is coming.”
           “Oh yeah, that’s the next stop after this.” Dante replied, slowly stepping up behind you and placing his hand on your shoulder. “You ready to head out?”
           “I definitely don’t want to go home yet, my roommate’s going to yell at me as soon as I get in the door!” you groaned, turning and facing the tall man. “How about this? I come back to the shop with you, have a few more drinks, and clean up the place? If I’m drunk enough, then I’ll have no memory of how awful that’ll be! And I can’t have a hangover if I stay drunk too, it’s the perfect plan!” you suggested, a grin on your face as you began to walk to the door, turning around for a second to wave at your boss.
           “I think you’re just trying to get more free drinks out of me.” Dante said, grabbing the door before you and holding it open. You stepped outside, you spinning in place for a moment before walking toward the shop. “Hey, lightweight, your place is the other way!”
           “I didn’t bring my bag with me! I need that before I can go home!” You said, grinning almost from ear to ear as a groan left Dante. Turning your head a bit to catch a glimpse of the man following you, you returned your gaze to your front, the smile not leaving your face as you watched all the people around going about their day, some of them noticing you and smiling a bit as they waved at you walking down the street. “You’ve got more trash bags somewhere in that store, right?” you asked back toward Dante.
           “I think so?” he replied, voice a little uncertain.
           “You’d better, cause I’m not leaving ‘til that whole place is spotless!”
           “Why?” catching up to you, you turned and looked at Dante, a confused look on his face.
          “As a thank you.” You answered. “You know, cause, well… you saved me. O-Or I guess, rather, you helped me not get eaten by that demon. That definitely wasn’t how I wanted to go.” Watching as Dante raised an eyebrow at you, you felt yourself flush a bit. “I-I mean, it’s not like I was planning on going, it’s just an expression and I wasn’t thinking about it anymore, at least not since that night with fat and ugly, cause I’ve been fine since then it’s just th—” hearing a laugh from Dante, you quickly felt your entire face turn red as you returned your line of sight forward. “Oh dear, this is terrible, how much more of a walk do we have?”
           “Just a little farther, I think you’ll be fine though.” Dante replied, a hand coming up and pushing itself into your hair, completely messing it up. Feeling the hand leave, you felt your lips pull tight, your hands coming up to fix your hair quickly. It was only a few minutes later that you saw the shop in the distance, your mind focusing on making a plan of how to make the whole place presentable to visitors. You knew it was going to take a long time, but you were fine with that, cause that meant you’d be staying at Devil May Cry all day.
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